


Do You Want Some of This?

by Trent_In_A_Tree



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Nine Inch Nails (Band)
Genre: Boots - Freeform, Domination, Gay Sex, God writing these tags is more awkward than writing the FIC, M/M, Public Sex, Sex, anal penetration, i should go to church really, no shit Ems tag your fic better you ass, what do I even tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trent_In_A_Tree/pseuds/Trent_In_A_Tree
Summary: Trent made his way down the center of the lobby, trying to check out the man sitting in the chair without being blatantly obvious about it. He thought he was about to get away without getting caught, but the man's unique face snapped up and he made direct eye contact with Trent, who gulped as the edge of his red painted lip curled up into a smirk and he leaned over the edge of the chair towards Trent subtly, as Trent's eyes traced his lithe figure, down to his sleek leather platforms, gulping as the man shifted away from him as if nothing happened.---Or in which Trent gets dragged out to go drinking by Chris and Robin, and is unbearably bored, but Robin's taken his keys, and so he goes to a dollar movie theatre where he meets someone who he finds quite hot.





	Do You Want Some of This?

**Author's Note:**

> Roses are red  
> Did you pay your rent  
> The working title of this was "Marilyn doing things he really shouldn't be doing in a movie theatre with his shoe and Trent"
> 
> If that's not enough for you to understand precisely what's going to happen in this, then please get some help. But no, there's no weird shoe penetration or anything, don't worry, I'm not that weird.
> 
> I don't own Marilyn or Trent, sadly, and Rammstein didn't pay me for product placement. I don't really listen to them that much, they're not my kind of thing. I didn't mean to mention Marilyn's Rammstein shirt /that/ many times.

Trent was unbearably bored. He walked up the street, mentally cursing Chris and Robin for being so dead set on going drinking. He didn't want to, he wanted to stay home and read, but Robin laughed at him and took the keys to his apartment, and took off down the street, making Trent chase after him. Robin still hadn't given the keys back, and Trent was starting to feel jumpy and anxious being in a bar pressed against so many other bodies. He didn't want to drink at the moment, he already had a raging hangover and headache from the day before. 

And so, Trent found himself walking up a windy, deserted street, looking for something to do. All the shops were closed, and the only open places were bars, and that was where he'd just come from. Trent rounded the corner, and sighed in relief, seeing a movie theatre. A red lighted sign that said "Dollar Theatre" in large letters, although the O in dollar was out, hung over the grimy glass plated double doors. Two frames for posters hung, one on each side of the entrance. One was empty, sporting a graffitied gang tag, and the other had a poster for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in it, which Trent could see only marginally, because the only light source in the direct area was the sign. 

There was nothing else to do in the area, and Robin still had Trent's keys. Trent pulled out his wallet, and saw that he had four dollars, and a few pennies. Satisfied, he stuck the wallet back in his pocket and grabbed the door handle, walking into the lobby of the theatre. 

The first thing Trent noticed was the spaciousness of the theatre lobby. It was carpeted in a smooth red, which was a little grubby, but still nice. A girl with dark hair pulled back was sitting drawing in a sketchbook with her boots propped up on what was obviously supposed to be the ticket stand, but looked more like a desk used in a special ed class for the last 15 years. 

Several large seats, cushions and upholstery ripped and leaking cotton stuffing or feathers, were scattered around the overly spacious lobby. In one sat a tall man wearing a long leather jacket. Trent looked at him a little longer than he would usually look at someone because he was quite interesting looking. His body was long and lanky and his hair was a smooth, dark curtain, the color box-dye black. He was wearing tight dark jeans with ripped knees and a Rammstein shirt and leather platform boots that stopped mid calf and added probably another six inches to his height, which, in Trent's opinion, wasn't needed because he was already tall enough. Not that they weren't nice boots. No, they were very nice boots. And the man's lips were nice, too, slathered in red lipstick, and so were his high, sharp cheekbones and big dark eyes. 

Tearing his eyes away from the annoyingly interesting looking and maybe kind of attractive man, Trent walked over to the desk wear the girl sat. She didn't notice him at first, and he looked down at her drawing. It was a nice drawing, a woman in a flowing dress holding a bouquet of roses, the beauty of the image contrasted by the sharp, dark lines that her steady hand traced in ink. 

"Nice drawing." Trent blurted, and the girl jumped, cursing under her breath, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." 

"It's fine." She smiled, "Thanks for the compliment, though. I'm trying to design a poster for my school's art exhibit night." 

"I think it's real neat so far." Trent grinned at her, "Do you go to an art school?" 

"No, I go to community college, but I'm majoring in art history, because there's only a few practical art classes, but not enough to major in." She sighed, then said, "I wish I could draw more stuff but I just don't always have the time." 

Trent thought for a second, and then said, "I'm a musician, if you'd like to draw some posters for my band's shows sometime. Your style is cool." 

The girl's eyes lit up in excitement, "What kind of music do you play?" 

"We're a kinda new wave post punk faggot band." Trent laughed, "It's called Nine Inch Nails." 

"I'd love to check you guys out, I love rock music." The girl grinned at Trent. 

"We're playing at that huge bar on Front Street next Wednesday at 10. Getting back stage is really easy if you just tell the bouncer you're Trent's friend. If you like us I can talk to you about some commissioning poster art and stuff." Trent smiled a little shyly.

"That sounds so cool! I'll definitely be there. I can get the other guy that works here to take the night shift for me." She grinned, "Not to cut the conversation short, but Texas Chainsaw Massacre starts at midnight, and midnight is in 5 minutes, so do you want a ticket?"

"Sure thing." Trent pulled out a rumpled one dollar bill from his wallet, and the girl opened the cash register and put it in, then ripped a ticket off of the roll. 

"Have fun watching people get chainsawed." She said, grinning. 

"See you Wednesday." Trent smiled and waved. 

Trent made his way down the center of the lobby, trying to check out the man sitting in the chair without being blatantly obvious about it. He thought he was about to get away without getting caught, but the man's unique face snapped up and he made direct eye contact with Trent, who gulped as the edge of his red painted lip curled up into a smirk and he leaned over the edge of the chair towards Trent subtly, as Trent's eyes traced his lithe figure, down to his sleek leather platforms, gulping as the man shifted away from him as if nothing happened. 

Trent walked past, heart beating rapidly as he pushed open the door of the theatre. He found a comfortable seat in the center of the empty cigarette scented room, which he folded down, cringing as it squeaked loudly. He brushed his hand over it, knocking stale popcorn onto the floor and then sat down in the chair. A few minutes went by where Trent didn't really think about anything in particular. The movie's title came on on the screen, and Trent watched but not with full concentrated interest because he'd been a kid in the 80's and he'd seen The Texas Chainsaw Massacre at least 30 times already. 

Trent found his thoughts drifting to the man outside the theatre, his long androgynous body and his pretty dark eyes stuck in his head. He wasn't exactly handsome by any means, but his appearance was striking and those boots were really quite attractive. His hands were nice too, and Trent didn't mind the thought of the large, long fingered hands grabbing his wrists hard, and wrapping a belt around them. He also quite liked the idea of the cracked-black polished nails digging into his thigh as one hand wrapped tight around his cock-- 

Trent was jolted out of his thoughts by the door of the theatre opening. He didn't see who came into the theatre, and he didn't think much about it. His train of thought had been interrupted, though, and he focused his eyes back on the movie. The girl was hiding in the house, now, and Trent noticed that the theatre's reel for this film was quite scratched up, probably because this film was their designated midnight movie. 

Trent heard the person who had just entered the theatre walking up the row behind him. He thought it was a bit strange when whoever it was sat down directly behind him, but different strokes for different folks. Besides, he was short. Most people could easily see over him. Trent's attention focused back onto the film. 

Until suddenly, there was the sound of shifting fabric and a very familiar red platform boot was propped up on the seat back, next to Trent's face. Trent's heart jumped in his chest and his fingers clutched hard onto the side of the seat. His stomach flipped like that time when he bungee jumped at 2 am with his friends when he was a kid, and he could've sworn he would fall into the ocean off of the improperly secured rope. 

The sound of sleek patent leather sliding across the seat brushed into Trent's ear as the man teasingly dug the toe of his boot into Trent's face, right under his cheek. A long fingered hand slid into Trent's hair, looping a strand gently between the fingers. 

"Hey, prettyboy." A distinctive deep voice said behind Trent. 

Trent sat paralyzed, his mind blank from the mix of arousal and shock. 

"Can't you say hi to me? I saw you looking all over me outside the theatre, you know." A long finger slid playfully over Trent's mouth as the red boot continued digging into his cheek. 

"Hey." Trent said stiffly, and one of the black nail polished fingers popped directly into his mouth. 

Trent was too shocked to do anything at first. He never would have thought that anything like this would happen to him, not that he was complaining by any means. He was simply surprised. The man above him dug the boot a little harder into the side of his face, as if prompting him to do something. Relaxing himself a little, Trent shakily tightened his lips around the finger in his mouth, experimentally running his tongue over it and doing it again when the taller man reacted by making what Trent would classify as a strangely cute sound in the back of his throat. 

The taller man pulled his finger out from between Trent's lips with a pop, wiped his hand on the smaller man's tank top, then stood up, swinging his legs over Trent's row of seats and sliding down into a seat next to him. Smiling a little shyly for someone who'd just been shoving his finger in mouth of another man whose name he didn't know, the dark haired man leaned down, pressing a hard kiss against Trent's mouth, sliding his hand around the back of his neck. 

Breathlessly they broke the kiss and Trent let out a stifled whisper, "What's your name?" 

"Marilyn." The man whispered back gruffly, pressing his lips right on Trent's jaw, under his ear. 

Trent didn't question the discordance of the the feminine name with the man kissing him, "I'm Trent."

"Suits you." Marilyn said, pressing a kiss to Trent's strong cheekbone and then pressing their mouths back together. 

Trent was glad the theatre was dark, because he didn't want Marilyn to see how red his cheeks were. The taller man's big hands slid under Trent's top, brushing over his rib cage like it was piano keys and then pulling the worn Skinny Puppy shirt off him, throwing it over the row of seats in front of him. 

"Oh." Marilyn said when he pulled back to look at Trent. 

"What are you oh-ing at?" Trent asked in confusion, cheeks reddening again. 

"I kinda expected you to have tattoos." Marilyn said, then laughed a little bit. 

"Yeah, no. I don't have any tattoos." Trent responded. 

"That's kinda cool." Marilyn said, "I've got a bunch." 

"That's pretty cool too." Trent said, and he could swear that the big, forward man in front of him was turning more crimson by the second. 

"Let's get back to what we were doing." Trent offered, breaking the awkwardness. 

Marilyn nodded, sliding his hands under Trent's thighs and pulling him into his lap, letting him straddle him. 

"I can't see the movie like this." Trent whined as Marilyn's fingers stroked his torso and his lips attacked his mouth. 

"Mm." Marilyn ignored the complaint, his fingers grasping Trent's thigh hard, and Trent moaning, smaller hands pushing Marilyn's jacket off his shoulders, the leather crunching into a pile on the seat next to them. 

Marilyn's lipstick was smeared around his mouth now, and the refuse of it were on Trent's mouth and neck and jaw, and more was getting smeared on his collarbones and upper chest, along with love bruises and little bits of blood in some places where Marilyn had sucked a little too hard, just how Trent loved it. Trent pulled Marilyn's shirt up his chest and Marilyn's lips broke away from the small singer's body as he threw the Rammstein shirt onto the seat in front of him. 

Trent's fingers dragged up Marilyn's chest, passing over a few cuts. 

"Where're these from?" Trent asked, and Marilyn pulled his lips away, quickly panting out, "I sing in a shock rock band," then pressing his mouth back to Trent's body. 

Marilyn's fingers wrapped around Trent's wrists, and he pressed Trent back onto the chair in the row in front of them. The theatre had stadium seating, and Trent lay at an incline which was a bit nerve wracking but also kind of exciting. Marilyn dragged his teeth over Trent's nipple, and the smaller man let out a squeak due to the sensitivity in that area. The seat top dug into his back but that just added to the sensations rushing through his body, and he had to say that this was the most alive he'd felt in a while. 

Marilyn kisses down Trent's stomach, ignoring the smaller man's squirming under him. He pressed a gentle kiss to Trent's growing bulge through his jeans, and Trent let out a soblike aroused moan. 

"Someone is a bit excited." Marilyn laughed, but not maliciously, cupping Trent's bulge. 

"Fuck." Trent replied, having nothing else to say as sparks fired through his stomach and cock as Marilyn continued to fondle him. 

"Yeah. I will." Marilyn replied, unzipping Trent's pants and exposing his boxers, which Trent's bulge strained against. 

"God, oh god." Trent whined, as Marilyn's long fingers pulled against the top of his boxers. 

"You're cute, you know that?" Marilyn shimmed Trent's boxers down his defined, boney hips. 

"Manly." Trent responded whinily, then let out a high squeal that completely contradicted his point as his cock popped out into the cold air, Marilyn continuing to pull his boxers down his thighs, then leaving them just above his knees. 

"You've got real pretty legs." Marilyn slid his hand teasingly up Trent's thigh, then squeezed near the top of it, his nails digging into Trent's soft flesh. 

"Do me, already." Trent said in an attempt at a commanding tone, but instead sounding needy. 

"God you're a brat." Marilyn commented, "I'll take my sweetass time." 

Before Trent could say anything, Marilyn wrapped a hand around his cock tightly, drawing a high moan out from the smaller man. He rubbed his thumb over the tip, warm precum smearing onto his hand. Marilyn let his hand slide down to the base of Trent's cock and hit against his stomach, fingers gliding softly and teasingly over the area. Suddenly, Marilyn's hands clutched Trent's thin waist, and he pushed Trent further back on the seat. 

"Whatcha doing that for?" Trent moaned out. 

"You wanted to see the movie, you princess. If you lean your head back you just might be able to." Marilyn yanked Trent's jeans and underwear completely off roughly as Trent positioned his feet on the wooden chair arms.

Marilyn stood between Trent's legs, and Trent leaned up, grabbing Marilyn's waist. He locked eyes with the taller man. 

"I'd rather see you." Trent whispered, then blushed. 

Marilyn smiled shyly again, his strongness breaking again, "I'd rather see your face too." 

Marilyn leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Trent's soft mouth, and then unzipped his own pants, letting them drop down over his boots and pulling down his own boxers. Marilyn's cock exited its confines and Trent gasped. 

"It's huge." Trent whispered.

"You're pretty big there too you know." Marilyn commented, then blushed a little bit. 

"Fuck me." Trent groaned, his vocabulary very limited in the current situation, "Hard." He added. 

"Course I will." Marilyn grabbed the smaller man's hips and aligned the tip of his cock with his hole, teasing it a little with just the head, and then plunging in. 

Trent let out a broken moan of pain and pleasure at once, his fingers digging into Marilyn's waist. 

"More, more." Trent whined, pressing himself down on Marilyn, shifting his body against his length. 

"God, you're needy." Marilyn's hands were on Trent's waist, and Trent's arms were tense, his hands clutching the seat behind him now, slightly bent and supporting his own weight, his soft mouth hanging open and his dark hair flying around as Marilyn pulled back and thrusted into him again, hard. 

Trent whined, and Marilyn pulled back again, his thrusts becoming more irregular, fast and hard, and Trent's whines and screams became more and more soblike and broken but in the nicest most aroused way as Marilyn's cock collided hard with his sweet spot over and over, the projector light basking over them now that Marilyn was standing and Trent's body was raised above the seats. Trent's cock slapped against his stomach and Marilyn shifted one hand under his back in order to continue to help support his weight as he slid his other hand around Trent's cock, the head swollen and leaking, and he stroked it without much finesse, because he was getting close himself. 

"I'm gonna cum... I'm..." Trent's frantic statement trailed off into a harsh moan as Marilyn thrust against his spot one last time and Trent came, his cum spewing out over Marilyn's hand and his own stomach. 

Marilyn could feel himself getting close, and he slid his cum covered hand off of Trent's cock, positioning his hands back on Trent's waist as he thrust into him one more time, letting loose deep inside of him with a soft, deep moan of Trent's name. 

Marilyn fell back onto the seat, managing to scoop Trent's angelic pale body into his arms bridal style. He couldn't help noticing how Trent's beauty contrasted with the dirtiness of the cum on his stomach and dripping from his ass onto his thighs. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find it at least a little hot. Marilyn leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Trent's mouth. 

"I like you a lot." Marilyn blushed after making the statement. He'd never said something like that to someone. 

"I like you, too." Trent smiled, leaning his head into the crook of Marilyn's elbow, and marvelling tiredly how nice he looked with his lipstick smeared all over his mouth and his dark eyes falling shut with exhaustedness, "Wanna finish watching the movie together?" 

"Of course. Let me help you get cleaned up first, though." Marilyn said, and Trent laughed. 

"You should fix your lipstick, too. Not because it doesn't look hot like that, but because people might suspect you." Trent raised his eyebrows. 

"Nah. I left the tube at home, let me own this." Marilyn grinned at Trent, "My band has a concert at around 2am. Looks like this'll be my new look."


End file.
